I am amused by how Conrado de Quiros started his article for today.
Anyway, when I read the word 'journalist', I remember one of the batchmates of my brother in highschool. Sure, I've heard and read of the injustice being inflicted to journalists, but I didn't really give a fish about it because none of those who were sued, or worse- slaughtered, were related to me.
But last vacation when I went back home, I had this encounter with a young boy. I was waiting for my brother at the Octagon of the Boy's Dormitory in Pisay. They were having their Dorm Acquaintance Party at the gym, quite far away, so nobody else was around. Then this boy came, who apparently stays at the dorm. However, the door was already locked, because the party already started at the gym, so he cannot enter anymore. Being the not-so-friendly person that I am, I just went on reading the book I brought with me to kill my waiting time. (This is the part where you could relate with me for all those awkward moments you've had some time in your life).
Suddenly, I noticed the sound of a stifled cry...then an almost inaudible whimpering. My goodness the boy is crying! What to do mah?! So, being in that scenario whereby you are alone with a crying little boy, you CANNOT not do anything, right? I approached the boy and asked what was wrong, and why he's not going to the gym to join the party. Then you know what he said?
"Oh..because I cannot enter my room anymore to change my clothes (for the party). I was late because I just came from *somewhere I don't remember* to give a speech..you see, MY PARENTS JUST DIED.."
When I heard these words, I was like WHAT?!
Then he said he didn't want to join the party because he found his current clothes inappropriate, he hasn't taken a bath yet, etc. So all the while I was coaxing him to go to the party nevertheless, because nobody would mind his clothes (I know because I'm from Pisay too)...and I could sense that he really didn't want to miss out on all the fun, because from where we were, we could hear people cheering from the gym. I knew he just needed a little prodding. I had to persuade him for a long time, still to no avail. Then he went to the canteen to buy instant noodles for his dinner, showing me that I bug off and implying he's fine. I followed him to the canteen, and while he was buying his food, I learned from the canteen attendant that his parents were journalists and that they were ambushed together.
Then I remembered all those angry articles by Conrado de Quiros regarding the injustice done to journalists. It was during that moment that I realized the gravity of the situation. Journalists are being slain left and right without mercy, and they leave behind little girls and little boys (like the one I just met). It made me angry and sad.
Anyway, in the end the boy attended the party, thanks to the persuasion and kindness of the dorm manager who showed up at the Octagon. The boy wore an oversized black polo shirt, supposedly my gift for my father when I get back home later that night. He was hesistant in wearing the brand new shirt because he realized it was fresh from the paperbag with the receipt still attached to it, but his eyes were also sparkling with eagerness to join the party.
Later that night, the boy thanked me. But actually, that was only the least I could do. I want to thank him more for giving me a warm glow within when his lips finally curled into a smile, and for showing me the great strength tucked in that tiny body of his. Despite disasters and devastations, life still goes on...
PS
Ha! SO now I think I should stop having this quarter-life crisis (I'm 20)...or this mid-sem crisis...or whatever you want to call it. It's freaking irritating. One of the reasons why I've been silent for a while.
I AM protesting discrimination. My good friend Billy Esposo has had a libel case filed against him by Mike Arroyo. My good friend Ellen Tordesillas has had a libel case filed against her by Mike Arroyo. My friend Lito Banayo has had a libel case filed against him by Mike Arroyo. My colleagues Jake Macasaet, Mon Tulfo and the editorial staff of my favorite newspaper, the Inquirer, have had a libel case filed against them by Mike Arroyo.
I have not had a libel case filed against me by Mike Arroyo. I feel left out. I protest!
Read more...
Anyway, when I read the word 'journalist', I remember one of the batchmates of my brother in highschool. Sure, I've heard and read of the injustice being inflicted to journalists, but I didn't really give a fish about it because none of those who were sued, or worse- slaughtered, were related to me.
But last vacation when I went back home, I had this encounter with a young boy. I was waiting for my brother at the Octagon of the Boy's Dormitory in Pisay. They were having their Dorm Acquaintance Party at the gym, quite far away, so nobody else was around. Then this boy came, who apparently stays at the dorm. However, the door was already locked, because the party already started at the gym, so he cannot enter anymore. Being the not-so-friendly person that I am, I just went on reading the book I brought with me to kill my waiting time. (This is the part where you could relate with me for all those awkward moments you've had some time in your life).
Suddenly, I noticed the sound of a stifled cry...then an almost inaudible whimpering. My goodness the boy is crying! What to do mah?! So, being in that scenario whereby you are alone with a crying little boy, you CANNOT not do anything, right? I approached the boy and asked what was wrong, and why he's not going to the gym to join the party. Then you know what he said?
"Oh..because I cannot enter my room anymore to change my clothes (for the party). I was late because I just came from *somewhere I don't remember* to give a speech..you see, MY PARENTS JUST DIED.."
When I heard these words, I was like WHAT?!
Then he said he didn't want to join the party because he found his current clothes inappropriate, he hasn't taken a bath yet, etc. So all the while I was coaxing him to go to the party nevertheless, because nobody would mind his clothes (I know because I'm from Pisay too)...and I could sense that he really didn't want to miss out on all the fun, because from where we were, we could hear people cheering from the gym. I knew he just needed a little prodding. I had to persuade him for a long time, still to no avail. Then he went to the canteen to buy instant noodles for his dinner, showing me that I bug off and implying he's fine. I followed him to the canteen, and while he was buying his food, I learned from the canteen attendant that his parents were journalists and that they were ambushed together.
Then I remembered all those angry articles by Conrado de Quiros regarding the injustice done to journalists. It was during that moment that I realized the gravity of the situation. Journalists are being slain left and right without mercy, and they leave behind little girls and little boys (like the one I just met). It made me angry and sad.
Anyway, in the end the boy attended the party, thanks to the persuasion and kindness of the dorm manager who showed up at the Octagon. The boy wore an oversized black polo shirt, supposedly my gift for my father when I get back home later that night. He was hesistant in wearing the brand new shirt because he realized it was fresh from the paperbag with the receipt still attached to it, but his eyes were also sparkling with eagerness to join the party.
Later that night, the boy thanked me. But actually, that was only the least I could do. I want to thank him more for giving me a warm glow within when his lips finally curled into a smile, and for showing me the great strength tucked in that tiny body of his. Despite disasters and devastations, life still goes on...
PS
Ha! SO now I think I should stop having this quarter-life crisis (I'm 20)...or this mid-sem crisis...or whatever you want to call it. It's freaking irritating. One of the reasons why I've been silent for a while.
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